FORGET-ME-NOT. 
179 
It springs where Avon gently flows 
In wild simplicity, 
And ’neath my cottage-window grows, 
Sacred to love and thee. 
This pretty little flowret’s dye 
Of soft cerulean blue, 
Appears as if from Ellen’s eye 
It had received its hue. 
Though oceans now betwixt us roar, 
Though distant be our lot, 
Ellen ! though we should meet no more, 
Sweet maid. Forget me not! 
The Myosotis palustris is nowhere found in 
greater perfection and abundance than on the 
bank of a stream near Luxemburg, which springs 
from the foot of an oak, that appears as old as 
the world, and, forming a number of little cas¬ 
cades, descends into an extensive plain. It is 
only the bank most exposed to the south that is 
thickly bordered by the Forget-me-not, and the 
plants hanging down seem to delight in look¬ 
ing at themselves in the crystal mirror of the 
stream, which is called The Fairies’ Bath, or the 
Cascade of the Enchanted Oak. To this favou¬ 
rite spot the young females often descend from 
the ramparts of the city, on holidays, to dance 
